Complicated 06
By: I Should Be Sleeping (AKA: Moar Sleep)
"You know I can extend my stay."
Hermione shook her head. "Harry, thank you but you have your apprenticeship," and seeing Ron about to speak, she cut him off as well. "And you have your family. Luna and Xeno must be missing your cooking."
The redhead smiled wryly. "I will talk to Kingsley about getting a Portkey to somewhere nearby. Once you have your Floo hooked up, expect the family and I for regular visits. And don't be surprised if Mum pops by with leftovers."
Her eyes welled with tears, touched by the care and thoughtfulness. "Oh!"
Both Harry and Ron, trained in years of understanding Hermione-isms as they liked to call it, braced themselves for the inevitable bone crushing hug. For such a tiny thing, she really had a firm grip.
"We love you Mione," said Harry.
"Always," finished Ron.
The Golden Trio continued to embrace until finally their called taxi pulled up the to curb.
"E-mail me," she ordered through her tears.
Ron looked excited to practice more with electronics. For a Pureblood, he was getting quite handy with them.
Harry smiled and winked at the brunette.
Sitting on the bed of the room she was currently renting at Joy's, Hermione fidgeted a bit. Her leg bounced anxiously as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
Now that she was alone, she felt the true weight of everything coming down on her once again. With Harry and Ron present, she had been able to revel in the familiar comfort. However, now that she was without their presence, she found herself floundering a bit and spiraling back into that similar sense of anxiousness that plagued her when alone.
Jumping from her bed, she paced for a few moments before deciding to try and distract herself with a good book. That porch was calling her name and she still had yet to enjoy a book on the comfy chair she spotted out back.
Her first session with Esme Cullen was not until tomorrow. She was not particularly looking forward to this. In all honesty, she was terrified. She had no idea what to expect from a therapy session as she had never attended one in her entire life.
"Hermione?"
The gentle knock at her door almost scared her out of her wits, but she was able to stop herself from drawing her wand in defense.
You are safe Hermione. You are not at war.
The short mantra repeated in her mind and although logically she understood, she still had a hard time tamping down some of her reflexes.
"Hermione? Are you there?"
"Sorry Joy. I was wool gathering," replied the brunette as she opened the door for the older woman.
"I am not sure if you had any plans today, but I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to the market? We will be picking up some things for dinner and I thought you could join so I know what you would like."
Touched by the thoughtfulness and eager to distract herself, Hermione nodded. "That would be wonderful."
Joy smiled brightly. "Great. I will meet you downstairs in fifteen?"
"Perfect!"
American markets were adorable, but perhaps it was just this one as it was definitely not a large chain like Tesco or Asda in the UK.
Personally, she preferred a nice little corner shop. There was a lovely little fruit stand ran by a small family around the corner from her parents dental practice. The selection was limited, but the pricing was fair and the quality was amazing. She remembered picking up fresh strawberries in the summer and enjoying them while reading a book in the park.
"Hermione, do you have any allergies?"
The brunette looked to Joy and shook her head. "No. I also am not very picky so anything you plan I am sure will be exceptional."
Joy smiled at the polite young woman. There was something endearing, yet somewhat distant about Hermione Granger. She was a young lady with a past and Joy could see the trouble she tried so hard to hide in her large, honeyed eyes.
"How about you tell me something you like. Is there a dish back home you miss?"
The brunette sighed. Merlin. When was the last time she ate properly? She had been so focused on work that she took horrible care of herself. "It has been ages since I have had a good Sunday Roast."
"Sunday Roast? It's Thursday."
Hermione laughed. "True. However, I think that is what I would like to prepare for you on Sunday if you will allow me to use the kitchen? It is the least I could do since you are preparing all of the meals for me and your family."
"Hermione sweetie, you're a paying guest and it is part of the service," Joy said.
"Despite this, please?"
How could Joy say no? When was the last time anyone had cooked for her? Her father-in-law burned water and Quil's idea of a meal consisted of Diet Coke and Flaming Hot Cheeto's. Joy nodded her head. "Deal. And in exchange, how about I serve up my mother's famous baked salmon with a nice potato salad?"
Hermione's stomach rumbled and the witch blushed at the loud sound.
"I'll take that as a yes," said Joy with a wide grin.
"Mom! I love you!"
Joy gave her son a bland look. "Quil, wait until everyone has finished their first plate before you try to snag thirds."
Large shoulders hunched in dejection. "Yes mom."
Hermione giggled. Quil was like a kicked puppy and despite his giant frame, he really was adorable.
Old Quil rolled his eyes as his lips quirked into a small smile. "Ah Joy! Our Quil is a growing boy!"
"Growing sideways," Joy said under her breath.
It was not as quiet as she had thought and really, with his super senses she was not surprised he had heard.
His gasp was overly dramatic. "Mother! Are you calling me fat!?"
Joy did not even bother with a reply and simply relented and fixed the bottomless pit that was parading as her son another plate.
Hermione continued to smile throughout the meal. The Ateara's really were very lovely.
Hermione tossed and turned in her sleep, the sheets tangled around her limbs in a hopeless mess. Her body was drenched in sweat and the cursed mark on her arm ached fiercely. Clumsily fumbling for her wand, she cast a soft Lumos.
Blood dripped from the crude words carved into her skin, the scar red and angry as if it was still fresh. Casting a few cleansing charms, she watched the blood drain away to leave the irritated slur imbedded in her skin.
It was a constant struggle. The dark magic of the curse combined with the intent of the caster left Hermione with a scar that bled angrily every now and again. She knew it was tied to her stress levels and being in a new environment and finally without Harry and Ron triggered her episode. Whispering a cooling charm to the enflamed skin, she sighed as she flicked her wand towards the window to let in a cool breeze. She was lucky she had cast a silencing spell to ensure that she not disturb the others in the house. The last thing she needed was to explain why she was suddenly covered in scars.
A glamor spell was applied religiously every morning. It was something she did whenever she went to the muggle world. She did not bother applying such frivolities in the magical world because everyone was well aware of her past – bloody hell, Rita skeeter had written an unauthorized biography – and the entire effort was pointless.
Her scars drew far more attention in the muggle world. How was she to explain that the angry scar on her neck was from having her throat almost slit by an angry werewolf with sharp claws? How was she to explain that the circular burn marks on her arms were from a cursed treasure trove in a vault that she had broken into? How was she to explain the horrible scar that practically bisected her torso from a failed curse by a deranged Death Eater?
Her body was a roadmap of scars and marks and each had a story. She was not a vain creature, but even she felt a bit self-conscious when she was without long sleeves and high collared shirts. The wizarding world, thank Merlin, favored the fashion of the Victorian Era so being covered head to toe was not unusual.
Here, in the muggle world however, was a completely different story. She could not very well walk about in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans in the middle of a heatwave.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart and focused on her breathing.
You are safe. They can no longer hurt you.
The words repeated in her mind until she fell into a restless sleep.
The Cullen House was a bit farther than she had anticipated. On Google Maps, the estimated time was about fifteen minutes.
It took double that.
Hermione let out a sigh of triumph as she finally found the long driveway leading to the modern building. It was quite beautiful with large ceiling to floor windows and white panes. Very sleek.
She was not quite sure what to expect with this particular coven, but a 21st century home was definitely not it. In all honesty, she expected something more dark and foreboding like Malfoy Manor, but seeing this actually put her at ease. This particular architecture was the exact opposite of anything that would be found in the wizarding world and that disconnect unknowingly gave her comfort.
"Yo! You the witch from the UK?"
Hermione's eyes went wide as they looked to the hulking male at her window, peering in with an all too white grin and unworldly amber eyes. "Bloody hell!"
"Ha! She curses in British too!"
"Emmett! What are you doing! Get back here!"
Another incredibly pale figure grabbed at the larger one. This one was very svelte, like a swimmer. His copper tresses were mused about his head in a way that made her recall a raven-haired wizard with bottle green eyes.
"Sorry about them" said a soft voice as she shot a look at the contrite looking behemoth of a vampire.
She was beautiful.
Then again, all vampires were beautiful.
Short auburn waves curled about her shoulders in a perfectly done style that looked effortless. Her amber eyes were the same as the other two, but warm and welcoming. Her rose-tinted lips were set into a soft smile as she peered through the window.
"You are Hermione Granger? I must admit, I did not expect you to be driving."
Hermione blinked a few moments before realizing she was still sitting in the driver's seat of her rented vehicle, hands at the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Relaxing her hold, she let out a soft huff of air. This really was quite a lot and currently her heart was coming down from a frantic race. "Merlin, sorry." Shaking her head she continued. "Yes, I thought it best to drive. It is considered incredibly rude to simply Apparate to someone's home unless it is first agreed upon."
Esme tiled her head as her lips pursed a bit in thought. This certainly was not the case as she had wizard kind popping in at odd times with little to no notice. Luckily it rarely happened, but when it did it was rather startling to just have someone appear out of thin air.
Hermione, seeing her discomfort, sighed. She could imagine that the Cullen Coven had less than polite dealings with magical folk. Most wizards, unfortunately, still very much viewed vampires as lesser beings. Therefore, being courteous and considerate were last on their list of priorities when dealing with those they classified as beings.
Opening the door, she straightened herself as she stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. "I am sorry if magical people have not give you the best of impressions but wizards are stubborn and stuck in the dark ages. Change is hard wrought, but know there are others, like myself, that are fighting for equality."
"Hermione. Your reputation precedes you. It is one of the reasons why I agreed to see you. I respect you very much," replied Esme gently.
Hearing this, Hermione relaxed slightly. After years of dealing with the unfairness and politics of the Ministry, it was nice to have her efforts appreciated. "Thank you."
"Oh, how rude. I am Esme Cullen."
Hermione smiled in return. "I gathered and thank you Esme."
The elegant woman gestured towards her home and welcomed the witch inside.
AN: Well, it begins.
A bit of a transition chapter, building Hermione's ties in the tribal community.
However, keep I mind she is living with a wolf so I wonder how this will affect her relationship with the Ateara's when Quil smells the Cullens on her...
Again, thank you so much for the reviews. It really helps me remain motivated and I love reading all of your kind words.
Me